


And We Make Our Mistakes

by flibbertygigget



Series: The Other 51 [30]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Canon Era, Child Death, F/M, Hamilton Prompts, Letters, Long-Distance Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-05
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,388
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flibbertygigget/pseuds/flibbertygigget
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aaron Burr knew that a long-distance relationship would never be easy.<br/>They laugh and they cry and they break.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We Make Our Mistakes

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt from Hamilton Prompts on Tumblr: “we laugh and we cry and we break and we make our mistakes” can someone please write an instance of Aaron experiencing each of these?

Long-distance relationships are never easy. Burr knows that, knew that when he first met Theodosia Prevost and fell in love despite his usually good judgement. But he knows… he knows that he can’t be happy with anyone else, not anymore. She’s his best friend and his angel, the one person in his life that he knows will always be there for him, with a sarcastic word and a helping hand no matter how badly he fucks up. They have both made their mistakes, but they are stronger for it.

This is only a greater challenge than most.

* * *

_June 21st, 1785_

My dearest Aaron,

You would have laughed to see your little Theo on her second birthday and how she domineered the entire household. From the start of the day, she told us all that since it was her birthday that we must do as she said. I ought to have scolded her, I know, but I was too overcome by mirth to do anything but embrace her and she took that as permission to continue. She managed to convince Bartow to allow her to climb onto his shoulders to access the branches of our apple tree, though the apples were green and she was quite put out. Aaron, if you had seen her, you would have been so angry, but I could do nothing but laugh.

How long will you remain in Albany? Shall you join us soon? The children and I all long for you to come home and be with us.

Your loving Theodosia

 

_June 30th, 1785_

Dear Theodosia,

I am yet again delayed by business, and I doubt I shall be with you again until nearly August. The longer I am absent, the more I long for your presence, for the soothing touch of your hand, for the hours in the evenings, formerly filled with love and conversation, that, as it is, lay wasted. Were it in my power, I would take every court and bring it to New York to create a city of courthouses, full of lawyers and judges. It would be an even more corrupt city, no doubt, but at least then I would not have to endure one night away from you and the children.

I see that Theodosia has inherited all the stubbornness of her father with none of the grace and good will of her mother. It ought to be painful for me, but I cannot help but be amused by the way that she has so effortlessly put us all under her little foot. I would no doubt be less amused had I been there, but from a safe distance it makes for a fine tale to read over supper.

Speaking of amusing stories, have I told you yet of the careless boy that has the nerve to call himself the clerk of the courthouse? Four times he has mislaid my letters to different witnesses, and all the while he assures me that they have been delivered. If I did not follow up on these things, I would no doubt have lost the case already. After the fourth time, I told him that, if he was incapable of delivering a simple message, he ought to switch places with the stableboy. How he raged at me! I got the last laugh, however, for I then called the stableboy in and, in the presence of the clerk, instructed him to deliver my latest letter to you. Please do pay the boy handsomely for his trouble on the behalf of my little joke.

A. Burr

 

_July 5th, 1785_

My dearest Aaron,

Your letter has been received and passed with much mirth around the supper table. The boy was given a hot meal and enough money to satisfy even the most greedy of couriers. Your Theo begs me to tell you that she has grown nearly half a foot since you have seen her last. Oh, when shall you return?

Your loving Theodosia

* * *

_March 18th, 1791_

My dearest Aaron,

Though I am loath to disturb you when you have only just arrived to assume your office, I must tell you that little Sally has taken quite ill. The doctors say that they can do nothing, but that she must depend on her own strength. Oh, Aaron, how I wish that you were here! Sally is only three, and I am sure that she will not live much longer. One word from your lips, with all your constancy and strength, would reassure me more than all the doctors in the world!

Your loving Theodosia

 

_March 30th, 1791_

Dear Theodosia,

I have only just received your most recent letter. Has there been any change in Sally's condition? Have the doctors suggested any treatment, any at all? Even if they do not, I will not hesitate to contact the best doctors in Philadelphia to get their recommendations as to the best course to take. Do you have any details of what is ailing Sally that I may tell them?

At your word, I will pack and return to New York as soon as I am able. As it is, all my prayers and love go out to you and to my little Sally.

A. Burr

 

_April 7th, 1791_

My dearest Aaron,

You needn't occupy yourself with the doctors or with returning to us. Sally passed nearly a week ago in the middle of the night.

My Aaron, I daren't cry. The children are upset, and I must be able to calm them and care for them as a mother should. Yet, at the same time, my heart is wailing, screaming and begging God for some answer. Why should I lose a child after having her already for three years with me? Why are you not here to comfort me? Do not think I am bitter. I understand the importance of your job, and I shall no doubt be already healed by the time you receive this letter. But it is hard, Aaron, so hard to do this alone. But one word from you, and I shall smile gladly, I shall be the happiest woman in the world, but for now I am lost. I cannot fathom a world in which I have one daughter instead of two, in which the nursery is empty and silent and bare.

I fear that, should I continue, this note would be an unreadable mess, so I shall end here. Do not come, Aaron, but write to me, write to us all. Your love is the only anchor that keeps me from being lost at sea in times such as this.

Your ever-loving Theodosia

 

_April 15th, 1791_

Dear Theodosia,

I have tried many times to begin this letter in the right way, but no words can encompass the immensity of my sorrow, both for you and for our poor children. Sally, young though she was, was a light in our lives in a way that can never be replaced or forgotten, only dulled with the passage of time. It would be useless to tell you of my own suffering, so I will leave you with these few words.

Stay strong. Take comfort in your children. I will return by the beginning of summer if all goes well.

A. Burr

* * *

_January 5th, 1794_

My dearest Aaron,

My stomach is again troubling me. The doctors are at a loss. I do not know what this illness is, only that it is more violent than any bout I have had before.

I would not mind the pain so much if it were not for the fact that the medicines that I take make my mind sluggish and useless. I fear that there is little of the quick-witted, intelligent woman you loved left.

Do not leave Philadelphia. I have no doubt that within a week I will feel better, and your job is very important.

Your loving Theodosia.

_January 17th, 1794_

Dear Theodosia,

I have contacted every doctor that I know. Have you yet tried mercury? There is a doctor here, Hersh, who tells me that it is a miracle drug, capable of curing almost any illness imaginable.

I shall trust your judgement, but you must tell me if your illness gets worse. Nothing would pain me more than to not be by your side would the unimaginable happen.

Your loving husband

A. Burr

 


End file.
